


Fire & Ice and Nothing's Alright

by Tobyaudax



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: DCTV Secret Santa 2018, Fire Powers, Gen, Humor, Ice Powers, Some Fluff, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 20:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16961001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobyaudax/pseuds/Tobyaudax
Summary: Another day, another artifact and quest to stop Vandal Savage. On their latest mission, Leonard's sticky fingers may have gotten he and Mick into more trouble than they can handle.





	Fire & Ice and Nothing's Alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klep (kleptoandpyro)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleptoandpyro/gifts).



"Captain Hunter," Gideon's almost friendly voice breaks the silence on the bridge. Rip looks up from the artifact he's studying in the library, glancing out at the few people scattered outside. He'd asked her not to interrupt him unless there was an emergency, so it must be important.

"Yes, Gideon?" His churlish tone is lost on the AI, but Rip still feels a brief pang at taking his annoyance out on her. He supposes there are some things humans never fully get used to.

"A fire has broken out in the cargo bay. It is mostly contained, but it appears that Mr. Snart could use some assistance in extinguishing it."

Rip sighs, then calls out onto the bridge, "I don't suppose one of you could take care of that?"

Sara, Jefferson and Martin exchange glances and Sara huffs her own sigh, offering up a fist, palm down to the others. "Loser assesses the damage?"

"Haven't lost a game of rock-paper-scissors in my life," Jefferson laughs, standing and rubbing his hands together eagerly. He holds his fist opposite hers as Martin rolls his eyes and joins them.

"A coin toss would be quicker," Martin mutters, but he puts his hand in the small circle anyway.

Not quite a minute later, Jefferson loses his first game ever and Sara's laughter escorts him down the hallway to the cargo area. Rip returns his attention to the new artifact, the crew and ship around him fading to background noise as he tries to figure out Vandal Savage's next location.

\--

Jax expects cursing or more noise as the doors open, but all he's met with is smoke and silence. Snart is mostly obscured behind a stack of crates and all he seems to be doing is glaring at the small patch of flooring that's still on fire, as if his eyes alone could put them out. Jax wonders if that's what he's actually trying to do. Snart's literal partner in crime is nowhere in sight and Jax lets himself relax; he doubts he'll ever feel at ease around the big pyro.

"Almost had it that time," Snart says quietly as Jax hoses the tile with the fire extinguisher. Jax gives him a small, reassuring smile, but his encouraging words are cut off as Leonard Snart bursts into flames.

**Three Days and 100 Years Earlier**

The museum basement was ridiculously ill-guarded for holding something so important. _Allegedly important_ , Leonard reminded himself as he, Mick and Sara slipped inside. They were looking for an artifact- a box not unlike in appearance to the Cenobite puzzle box from _Hellraiser_ \- that was supposed to have vital information about Vandal Savage inside. Once the mission had been labeled a theft, Leonard had volunteered his and Mick's services, though after the last time (or two), Rip was reluctant to have them in the past unescorted. Palmer had been shot down immediately and the Professor had haughtily declared the job too far beneath himself and the kid. Kendra was still broken up about her beau and Leonard didn't trust Rip to keep a level head, given what they had learned about him and their actual reasons for being on the Waverider.

So Sara had been both the only one left and the only one Leonard could come close to consider trusting to have his back. He'd been allotted a day to plan the break-in, something he shrewdly pointed out wasn't enough time, given they had an actual time ship at their disposal. But once Rip went off about the nature of time travel and linear time versus some other time, Leonard had tuned him out and began studying the layout of the museum. He preferred weeks to hours, but the job was simple enough and the info as solid as he could expect, so everything went off without a hitch. He was only surprised they got the box without another mishap.

On their way out, something shiny and warm caught his eye and Leonard carefully stepped around a dusty display to take in the gorgeous, topaz necklace set in what had to be 24 carat gold, attached to and nestled on a coil of heavy-looking gold chain. The gemstone was as big as his fist and if Leonard had had any less control over himself, he would have salivated at the sight of it. If his fence back in Central couldn't line up a good buyer, at least Lisa would have a stunning birthday present whenever he and Mick got home. He passed the box to Mick, catching his eye long enough to indicate the case with the necklace. Mick gave him a wolfish grin and moved ahead, blocking Sara's view and handing the little box off to her at the same time. It was the work of seconds to determine the display wasn't wired or alarmed in any way and then liberate and pocket the heavy necklace. Leonard easily moved up behind and then beside Sara as all three made their escape into the night and back to the Waverider.

_Easiest score this entire, lousy trip._

**Present**

Mick Rory is cold as Hell. He's never understood that expression- he'd been taught when he was little, by the preacher back in Keystone, that Hell was hot. Like that was a bad thing. He remembers the long summer sermons about brimstone and lakes of fire with a smile; Hell had never sounded as scary as it was supposed to. Maybe if it actually was as cold as Mick is now, he'd have shown a little respect, behaved himself a little better. Because a cold, barren place is something Mick hates, maybe might go as far as saying he fears. Being cold is one of the worst things he's ever been and he's never been colder than he is now.

He's wearing every article of clothing he brought with him onto the stupid time machine, along with Snart's parka, and he can still just barely feel his fingers and toes. It's misty and snowing exclusively in the fabrication room as he breathes; his breath is a lot colder than the air around him. He's waiting for Gideon to finish the thick mittens she's making for him and it's the longest few minutes of his life. Mick watches the threads stitch together for a few seconds, then stuffs his hands into the pockets of his own coat, half-numb fingers searching for and finding his lighter. And even though he knows what's going to happen, he pulls it out anyway, rolls his thumb over the wheel, depresses the handle, holds his breath… and feels his heart sink and breath hitch as the flame sparks, sputters, and refuses to catch. He's lost count of how many times he's tried to light it, now.

Once his new mittens- and a couple big, itchy sweaters- are done, Mick waddles to the kitchen to find something to eat. He wants a sandwich, a nice, tall one like they make in cartoons, but the mayonnaise freezes solid before he's pried the jar off of his hand. The pickles, tomato and awful, fake meats suffer the same fate. Mick watches ice crystals form over the loaf of bread and then throws it on the floor, hearing it shatter as he turns away and yanks the freezer door open.

Mick used to love ice cream, but two cartons in and he wonders if he'll ever be able to eat it again, once this is over. He tries to conjure up the few happy memories he has from his childhood; the lake in summer and Ma buying him first a snow cone, then some ice cream before they went home. She'd act like it was a big secret, slipping him the change and giving him a wink and gentle push towards the truck parked at the edge of the sand. Maybe it had been a secret, the way his dad had always gone on about money, but Mick never said a word about that extra treat when they got home. He'd gotten a lot of ice cream headaches at the beach from eating his cones so fast.

A third carton sits in front of him, the chocolate chip cookie dough half eaten and rapidly developing frostbite. Mick snarls and throws it on the floor with the shards of bread. He doesn't remember the last time he's spent so much time away from a flame. He wishes he hadn't taken his lighters for granted over the years; at least it feels like he took them for granted, now that he can't use any of them anymore. His favourite one is in his hand again before he realizes it, his thumb futilely sliding over the wheel, trying in vain to make the spark catch.

Even the hard liquor he brought aboard is frozen solid by the time he gets the bottle to his lips. Mick almost wants to cry, but he's a bigger man than that. And the tears will freeze on his face. Instead, he screws the cap back on the whiskey, pockets it, and heads off to take out his frustrations on Snart. This whole mess is his stupid partner's fault.

**Two Days Earlier**

"We can get half a million for it, easy," Snart whispered from over Mick's shoulder. They were standing in front of Mick's desk, Snart's back blocking the necklace from Gideon's camera, despite that they'd covered it. The first thing Snart had done once they'd taken rooms on the time machine was search both his and Mick's for any monitoring devices and attempted to disable them. Gideon had caught him and warned against doing it again; Mick still fondly remembered the look on Snart's face when she'd shocked him during his second try. They settled for blocking the camera and talking quietly enough that Gideon couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Looks pretty old," Mick agreed, running a gloved finger along the weird symbols etched around the gold setting. "What's it again? Ruby?"

"Thought so, too, when I first spotted it, but the plaque on the case and a closer look prove its imperial topaz."

"That rare or something?" Mick didn't know anything about gems or jewelry, he just knew the bright, red-orange colour reminded him of fire. Snart gave him a shitty smirk, leaned closer and reached around Mick to pick the rock up in his bare hand. The solid gold chain dragged across the desk, making that nice sound expensive things did.

"Probably even land a million, if we can get a manufacture date."

Light from the lamp caught on the stone and it gleamed, sparkled and danced like living fire. Mick pulled one of his gloves off with his teeth and ran a careful finger across the smooth surface. His thumb bumped Snart's hand where it gripped the sides and a jolt of… something skittered over the rock and between Mick and Snart's hands. He jerked away, startled, and noticed Snart almost fumbled the thing. Good thing it was so expensive or he might've.

"Th'hell was that?" Mick demanded, glaring between the necklace and his partner. Snart offered him a shrug that said 'I dunno' better than the actual words.

"Static electricity," Snart eventually said. He'd pulled his gloves back on- as had Mick- and thoughtfully turned the stone over between his hands. He didn't say anything else and Mick lost interest, moving to the other side of his desk to sit down, kick his feet up and get his favourite lighter going. He barely registered Snart slipping the necklace into the pocket of his parka as the flame captured his full attention.

**Present**

The kid has been talking for exactly four minutes, stumbling through an explanation as to how he and the professor exert their joint control over the power of Firestorm. Leonard couldn't care less; he's currently trapped in the fabrication room, tapping an impatient finger against his smoldering blanket-covered arm as he waits for Gideon to finish his fire-retardant clothing. He knows more than the average person about how to keep things from catching fire, hanging around with Mick for as long as he has, but there were certain types of fabric that were more resistant to flame than others that he simply hadn't heard about before, and others that were invented in the future. He commits the materials to memory and hopes he won't need that information for himself for much longer.

"-kind of a state of mind, y'know? Grey and me, we just find this wavelength, I guess you could call it. Like, thinking the same thing at the same time, and it helps us focus."

"A painfully simplified description, but nonetheless accurate," Stein puts in from the doorway. Leonard heard him come in 20 seconds ago and represses a sigh at the impending lecture.

"And you forget, Jefferson, that Mr. Snart lacks the benefit of an additional mind to work with."

"Lucky me," Leonard drawls. The fabricator chimes and Leonard doesn't waste a second in pulling the articles out and shimmying into them behind the dwindling cover of his blanket. As he slips the thin, thermal shirt over his head, he hears the tatters of fabric that were the blanket hit the floor and turn to ash with a muted hiss.

"I didn't forget," Jax says peevishly. "I'm trying to think how it works for just me. How to describe the way I control it-"

"I'm afraid your efforts are quite wasted on someone like him," the professor sniffs. Leonard knows that tone of voice and counts down from five in his head; the words might be more highbrow than his old man's, but the insult is pure Lewis.

"Fun as this therapy session is, gentlemen, I got better things to do." Leonard stalks close to Stein, brushing shoulders, lingering a moment to throw the professor off balance before making his way to the door.

"Just trying to help, man," Jax says. _He_ sounds like Barry- pretending he cares and acting like a kicked puppy when his efforts are rebuffed.

"Don't need your help."

It's the worst time for Leonard to once again be engulfed in full-body flames.

**Two Days Earlier**

"Mess with the thermostat in your own room," Mick growled through chattering teeth. It had gotten so chilly that he had to put down his lighter. He rolled his sleeves down, put his new jacket and then CCFD coat on and _still_ felt cold. "S'freezing in here!"

Snart threw down the book he'd been reading and lurched off the weight-lifting bench he was lounging on. His coat and gloves were gone, sleeves of his sweater rolled up past his elbows. Mick shoved past him and wiggled his arms into the discarded parka as Snart laid into him, "Too damn hot, is what it is, Mick! I didn't touch the temperature- Gideon's in charge of that."

Snart yelled without shouting, raising his voice just enough and saying Mick's name in that way that sometimes made Mick feel like a kid again, getting scolded at school for playing with matches in the bathroom. Mick hated when he did that and rounded on him, the fur-trimmed hood flipping up and over his head.

"You're crazy, running around like that," he pointed accusingly at Snart's lack of warm clothes. "Gonna get sick in this cold!"

Mick shoved past him to strip the sheets off his bed, wrapping the top one around himself while bunching the fitted sheet up to burn. Gideon would detect and then put out the fire before it got warm enough, but Mick didn't care. He glared at Snart as he clicked his lighter, waiting for the flame to catch; Snart's pants were rolled up almost to his knees and he'd gone so far as to take his boots and socks off. He was practically dripping with sweat and as close to half naked as Mick had seen him since they'd bunked together in juvie. Damn drama queen was really selling his "too damn hot" story.

"Mick-"

"Y'know I hate it when you say my name like that."

"Mick, your lighter!"

"Yeah, it's sticking, but I'll get… it…" Mick trailed off and stared at his hand in horror: it was coated in ice crystals, the lighter and, when he shook it, the fluid inside frozen solid. The temperature felt like it dropped another 20 degrees, taking his stomach down with it.

"Mick…" Snart walked towards him, his steps jerky and awkward. Mick stared stupidly at him as Snart burst into flames.

**Present**

"I realize that providing a straight or honest answer is against your nature, but I must ask again, do you have any idea what could have caused these- abilities to manifest so suddenly?"

Rip is asking for the third time and Leonard gives him the same response as the first, when the sprinkler system in Mick's room froze and a few hours afterwards when Gideon summoned all hands to put out the fire that had started in the hallway, "No clue." He adds a casual shrug and a smirk and gets up to stick his head in the freezer when Mick steps into his space.

"Frankly, I'm rather impressed you managed to keep this-" Rip gestures absently between Leonard and Mick. "Quiet for nearly two days."

"Maybe if you didn't have your head up your ass with that _Hellraiser_ box, you'da noticed," Mick snarls. Leonard grins at their shared observation of the artifact, but his humor is short lived as Mick turns his ire on him, leaning close to glare right in Leonard's face.

As far as Leonard is concerned, he and Mick aren't needed on the bridge. Normally he'd take off, shove past his partner and give him a warning glare to keep his distance, but Mick is radiating cold and it's the most soothing thing Leonard's felt in two days. He can't be blamed for basking in the much cooler air for a few seconds. It's likely also not his fault that he doesn't notice Mick reach into his parka- the one that Mick has been wearing constantly since whatever's happening to them started- and throws something across the ship's console.

"Probably this did it," Mick says, snapping Leonard's attention to the necklace Rip is now holding. He puts his back to everyone before sending Mick the most murderous glare he can muster while sweating his balls off, but Mick is unfazed.

Rip immediately demands to know where the jewel came from, but Mick's gone mum, shaking his head and providing no further information. Nice to know he hasn't completely lost it.

"There's an inscription," Raymond says, leaning into Rip's space to squint at the gem. Leonard fumes at the loss, feeling himself grow literally hot under the collar. "I bet if we can translate this, we'll have some idea as to what's happening."

"You may have something there, Dr. Palmer," Rip muses, turning the necklace over in his grubby, unskilled hands. He sets Leonard's hard-stolen gem down, directing Gideon to scan it and start researching. Smoldering, Leonard takes hold of Mick's arm and nearly drags him out of the room. He can smell his clothing starting to burn, feel the fabric grow increasingly more uncomfortable on his skin, but he forces the sensations aside as he shoves Mick against the wall once they're out of sight and earshot.

"What d'you think you're doing, giving that away!"

Mick glares right back, staring him down with a fury Leonard hasn't seen in his partner in a long time. "Pretty sure you don't wanna keep on like this any more'n I do," he replies.

"We can control it. I'm getting close-"

"You got nothing, Snart. You're lyin' so bad your pants on fire from it as much as these powers."

"A little more time," Leonard calmly responds, willing the heat within him down deep into his stomach. "I'll get a handle on it. Then I'll show you how."

Mick laughs in his face and Leonard has to count backwards from ten to keep the flames at bay this time. "I ain't freezing my ass off any longer than it'll take the brain trust to figure out what happened and fix it. Go 'show' yourself."

"Control is something I'm very good at, Mick," Leonard assures him with a wave of a smoking hand, his tone snide and chiding. He watches with vindictive glee as Mick bristles; his partner hates being talked down to.

He hasn't been wearing his gloves the past couple days, can't stand to feel the material melting against his skin. Mick first swats at him, then grabs the hand Leonard had gestured dismissively with. The sudden contact, the loss of the necklace, and the murder in Mick's eyes are a little too much all at once and Leonard's control slips. He watches the mittens disappear in a sizzle of flame, the thick leather of the gloves Mick was wearing underneath melt, the air hazy and wet around them. Their hands connect, Mick's naked thumb across Leonard's bare palm and- everything stills. One second, two seconds, and Leonard feels room temperature, a soothing, neutral touch. It's so quick, so comfortable, that he's dizzy from it. And doesn't notice Sara until she's right next to them.

"Gideon's narrowed the time period of the necklace down to a thousand or so years ago, but it'll take her a while to figure out which dialect the description's written in. …m'I interrupting something, boys?"

"We're done here," Leonard answers stiffly. He's already shaken out of Mick's grip and walks with as much dignity as he can muster down the hall to the fabrication room, leaving a trail of melted rubber, scraps of fabric, and burning footprints in his wake.

**Two Days Earlier**

Even though he'd spent time with a man- two men in one body- who could catch fire, the first thing Leonard thought of when he was engulfed in flames was the Human Torch. He'd always liked Johnny Storm and he supposed this must be how the kid had felt when the effects of the gamma rays first manifested. Hot on the heels of that observation was the fact that he was suddenly on fire and Leonard promptly dropped to the floor to roll the blaze out. He shouted for Mick to throw a blanket over him as he tossed and turned on the rapidly singeing tiles, but Mick didn't move. Leonard waited for pain to bubble up through the shock, but he never felt anything beyond the cloying, oppressive heat. His voice was hoarse with alarm when he yelled to Mick again, but the only move his partner made was a few steps forward. Mick's eyes were wide and round… and glazed over; he was transfixed by the fire and would be no help.

As the seconds ticked by and Leonard mentally went over treatments for third- and fourth-degree burns, he realized that the fire wasn't hurting him. It was uncomfortable as hell, hot to the point of distraction, but he wasn't in the kind of pain he'd witnessed Mick in, after the Shreveport incident. He slowly stopped rolling and sat up, still burning, but otherwise unharmed. He held a hand out in front of himself, fingers spread wide, and turned it back to front, watching the flames dance over his skin. Mick moved closer, dropping to a crouch to stare as Leonard rolled his wrist, trying to… summon a fire ball or something. But the flames didn't respond- they did nothing but continue to burn.

"Beautiful," Mick breathed, entranced. Leonard knew he was talking about or to the flames, but he still shot his partner a chastising look. And took the opportunity of Mick's distraction to shove him backwards onto his ass.

"Hey! What're you trying to-." Mick blinked and looked slowly up and down Leonard's body. "Leonard," he whispered. "You're on fire."

"Thanks, Mick. I know."

He hauled himself to his feet and quickly stepped away from where he was indenting the floor with the heat from his body. His very naked body; it was a knee-jerk response to cover himself with his arms, even though Mick had seen him undressed a few times. Leonard looked around the room, then up at the sprinkler system that had yet to deploy. An inch or so worth of water had been released, but it was frozen and still attached to the sprinkler heads scattered around the room. Most of the area around Mick was equally frosted over or dusted with snow. And other than shivering and looking confused, Mick seemed as unharmed in his permafrost state as Leonard was on fire. He was glad they'd blocked the cameras, but the damaged sprinkler system and smoke alarm must have tipped Gideon- and Rip- off to something wrong.

"Gonna figure this out," he said, more to himself than to Mick. Leonard stretched his hands out in front of him and willed the fire to go out. The flames flickered, dimmed, but didn't stop. "Once we figure this out, we can control it, use it."

"Let's trade," Mick insisted. He moved in close, heedless of the flames as always, reaching for Leonard's bare arms. "I'll take the fire and you can have- this. I can handle fire."

"Don't think it's gonna work like that." Leonard let Mick grab him and held back a laugh when his gloves caught fire. Mick didn't pull back immediately, didn't even flinch when the material started to burn away. Leonard stepped backwards, out of reach, before Mick's gloves could burn off completely. "Seems the universe has a sick sense of humor."

"I'm so _cold!_ " Mick only whined when he was sick or couldn't burn something for more than an hour, the petulant tone of his voice further showing how upset he was.

"And I'm burning up," Leonard drawled, his pun answered by a groan. "But we _can_ control it, Mick, I know we can."

It had only been a minute, no, 80 seconds since Leonard had caught fire, so they didn't have much longer before the nosey AI started poking around. He closed his eyes and conjured cold thoughts- the cold gun, his granpa's ice cream truck, winter. He remembered the blizzard of '83, the coldest December on record and he and Lisa getting snowed in for 2 weeks. They'd survived on crumbs and melted snow. Lisa was what did it; Leonard opened his eyes and the flames were gone. Mick looked heartbroken through his body-wracking shivers.

"See?" He spread his arms with a triumphant smirk. "Think warm thoughts, Mick. I'm gonna get a change of clothes, then we'll work on this."

It was still oppressively hot, the sweat pouring off of him and evaporating before it hit the floor, but Leonard wasn't on fire anymore. He snatched the fitted sheet off the floor and wrapped it around himself, then backed out into the hallway and right into Ray Palmer. The door slid closed on a dejected-looking Mick, but Leonard spun around to face his newest problem. It wasn't possible that Raymond knew or could guess what had happened- he and Mick weren't even sure what had caused it- but Leonard was on guard and ready with three diversions should the other man stick his nose in their business.

"Oh, hey there, Leonard! What, uh... where are your clothes?"

"Had a toga party, Raymond."

"Okay. Uhm, Gideon said there was a malfunction in Rory's room and I, uh, thought I could check it out?"

"Everything's fine- Mick's working on it as we speak."

"He _is?_ Does he know what he's doing?"

Leonard leveled Raymond with as icy a glare as I he could while wearing a sheet and coated in sweat. "Yeah. He does. Anything else?"

Properly chastised, Raymond dropped his eyes to the floor, and then trailed them back up Leonard's body, meeting his eyes for a second before glancing at Mick's room and… blushing. "No, nope! Everything's, uh, fine! See you 'round, Leonard!"

Raymond walked into a wall, backed up laughing, and then rushed down the opposite corridor. Leonard watched his escape, realization dawning with a chuckle. _Prick thinks we're sleeping together_. Once he was at least temporarily safe in his room, Leonard dropped the singed sheet and got dressed.

He kept Lisa and cold memories in mind as he headed back across the hall to Mick's quarters. Mick was where Leonard had left him, but sitting down and dismally trying to get his lighter to start. He'd chipped the ice off, but more had formed and was continuing to spread. They worked on warming Mick up for an hour, stopping once Leonard couldn't maintain his own focus and once again burned through all his clothing. He accepted Mick's CCFD uniform and turned his attention to keeping his own powers at bay. They didn't speculate as to what had caused their temperature troubles- after very little thought, it was obviously the pilfered necklace. Leonard hadn't believed in curses or magic of any sort before, but he didn't seem to have a choice just then.

Mick's temper was short on a good day, so being unable to burn something, to even warm up for more than a few seconds, had him on a hair trigger. Leonard chose his words carefully, kept his tone neutral and non-confrontational, but after three hours, Mick had had enough. He accused Leonard of taunting him with the fire and ordered him out of his room.

With time to work exclusively on his own ability, Leonard still found his mind wandering. He watched flames flicker and grow around his hands and wondered how Mick could stand not being in control of something. How could he stare into a fire and let his mind go, not want to capture and command and manage the unruly flames? It was a challenge like none Leonard had faced, save possibly the Flash. The look on Barry's face when he and Mick arrived back in Central, sans their guns and wielding their own fantastic powers, made Leonard grin.

He could control the fire, he would control it. His resolve wavered slightly when his newest change of clothes burst into flames.

**Present**

They're called back to the bridge several hours later. Mick and Snart are the last to arrive, Snart because he likes to make an entrance and Mick because he has to be pulled away from the kitchen and his latest attempt at eating something that isn't ice cream or an ice pop. Mick's added a heavy, Sherpa-lined blanket to his cache of warm clothes and he drops into his seat to glare out the large, front window. They're floating in a sea of green and yellow waves that have been looking more like flames the longer Mick goes without getting close to a fire. Snart settles next to him and Mick imagines he can feel the heat that's been constantly radiating from him the past couple days.

"Now that everyone's present," Hunter starts, sending Mick and Snart a dirty look. Snart doesn’t say anything, just gives him that shitty little smirk. "Gideon, what have you found out about Snart and Rory's situation?"

"To begin with, Captain, the necklace Mr. Rory provided is quite old- dating from sometime in the year 600 CE. The craftsmanship most closely matches jewelry fashioned in Persia during this time period. The inscription is a dialect of Medieval Greek, and literally translates to, ' _Touch without ownership, with ill-intent; burning the hand that takes, cold the one that aids'_."

Haircut leans over the console and starts to touch something, then looks up at Hunter like he's asking for permission or something. Mick would laugh, but he just wants to know how to stop whatever's happening to him. "So, basically, anyone that steals this will catch fire, and anybody that helps will freeze."

"Brilliant deductive reasoning, Raymond," Snart says. He's tapping his fingers on his upper arms, antsy. Any sympathy Mick might have felt can't be mustered- the whole thing is Snart's fault.

"So why haven't Rip and I been affected?" Haircut points between himself and Hunter.

Hunter pauses, obviously as much of a drama queen as Snart. "Gideon thinks it has to do with intent- Dr. Palmer and myself have only been attempting to analyze it, not keep it."

"And how would the stone know that?" Snart asks. Mick was thinking the same thing.

Haircut shrugs, "Magic?"

"The stone is an imperial topaz," Gideon continues. "A naturally occurring red gem that is worth a considerable amount of money in many eras."

All eyes swivel to Snart, who doesn't acknowledge the attention. Mick's not going to rat him out and no one will probably ask him about it, anyway. Hunter clears his throat and Gideon keeps talking. When they first got on the time machine, Mick thought the floating, digital head was weird, but he's gotten used to it. Still jumps whenever she talks to him when he's alone in his room, but he guesses he'll get used to that, too, eventually. He'll think about being nicer to Gideon if she can tell him how to turn his stupid freeze powers off.

"In many cultures, topaz is representative of both the elements fire and water. It seems this stone and its inscription were chosen to work in tandem."

"Are you suggesting, Gideon, Captain Hunter, _Raymond_ , that this, this bauble is _mystical_ in nature?" Professor can barely get the words out, saying everything the same way he talks about Mick and Snart- like he's better than them. Mick tries to will his cold closer to the old man, but the power continues to ignore him.

"I think it's pretty obvious that's the case, Martin," Haircut points out. Nobody has to turn their heads this time, as the ice Mick's been creating has coated most of the floor, stopping only at the simmering floor tiles that surround Snart's seat. "I saw some pretty incredible things back in Starling City."

"As Gideon said, balance and the four elements are a common occurrence throughout history." Hunter looks around the console, trying to catch everyone's eye for dramatic effect. Mick's seen Snart do the same thing during heist meetings. "And I don't need to remind you what we're up against in Vandal Savage."

Snart jumps in, his words quick and clipped."Fascinating as this all is, how 'bout a way for me to cool my heels and reheat Mick?"

"The inscription isn't very clear about that, I'm afraid," Hunter admits. Mick starts to get up, his joints aching from the cold, but Snart waves him back down, noticing something Mick didn't. "But, Gideon and I are almost certain that returning the necklace will put an end to this. It was caused by theft; perhaps making amends will stop it."

"You're guessing. If you had a clue, you'd come out and say so. What if we put that thing back and we get worse?"

"I really can't see how things could get any worse," Haircut mutters.

"How 'bout I freeze you and beat you into frosty, little pieces?" Mick offers.

"There does appear to be a temporary solution," Gideon jumps back in, maybe looking to save Haircut's ass. "Skin to skin contact should nullify the effects of the necklace on both of you."

"'Should'? And how sure are you about that? Last time me and Mick 'crossed the streams', we caused an explosion that nearly leveled a city block. You wanna take that chance on this- Mick!"

Mick quit listening when Snart entered rant mode, shedding his gloves and coats, two shirts and starting on his pants.

"You, uh, don't have to strip completely, Mr. Rory," Hunter says.

"Holding hands should be sufficient," Gideon adds.

"What are the chances this backfires?" Snart demands. He's holding his arms even tighter and pushed back into his seat. Mick doesn't care how much he doesn't want to touch in front of other people- if the computer says this is what they have to do, he's going to do it.

"Shut up and gimme your hand, Snart," Mick orders, standing over him and sticking his bare hand in Snart's face. It's noticeably warmer there in the other man's space and Mick decides not to wait for Snart to do it and pries a hand free from its death-grip on Snart's bicep.

Immediately the entire room relaxes. Mick doesn't feel like he's going to freeze to death and he grins madly as the ice on the floor and clinging to his clothes melts. Snart's stopped smoldering, though he still looks like he's trying to set Mick on fire with his eyes. But even through his childish anger, Mick can see Snart's just as relieved as he is. He hauls his partner to his feet and starts to drag Snart out of the bridge.

"Mr. Rory! This is a temporary solution! Where are you-?"

"I'm hungry," Mick throws over his shoulder. "Gonna eat some real food while I can. We'll be in the kitchen, you eggheads figure out how to stop it for good."

Snart keeps quiet as they stalk down the hall and all the way into the kitchen. He just holds onto Mick's hand as Mick starts to make a few sloppy sandwiches, staring at a point beyond Mick's shoulder. It's slow going, assembling sandwiches one-handed, but Mick does his best and takes his time- he knows he'll be able to eat them, so he can be patient a little bit longer.

"Gideon said 'skin to skin' contact," Snart finally says, more to himself than to Mick. "Let's try this." And he shakes free of Mick's hand long enough to slip his own under Mick's remaining two shirts, palm on the place where Mick's shoulder meets his neck. There were a few seconds of bone-chilling cold, but as soon as Snart is touching him again, the air warms and an involuntary sigh escapes them both.

Snart's free hand points at the table over Mick's shoulder. "Make me one," he demands. "Haven't eaten since right after the last job."

Mick laughs and puts a sandwich together for him. "Lisa's wrong- _you're_ the train wreck. Be dead ten times over if I didn't feed you."

Their first week or so onboard, Snart didn't let Mick eat anything they didn't bring themselves. Neither of them completely bought Hunter's time travel story in the beginning, but Snart sure wasn't taking any chances. He wanted to make sure there wasn't something in the food; "Mind control devices, some kind of chemical- who knows what they've made in the future." But once they started to settle in- and Snart observed that the fire kid and Blondie weren't behaving any differently- it was still on Mick to make sure his partner ate. Didn't hurt that everything was fake and therefore kosher.

He's not sure how much time passes after Snart settles in next to him to eat, one hand heavy and warm on Mick's shoulder, when Gideon butts in with an updated translation.

"The only certain way to break the curse appears to be breaking the stone, itself. Topaz has a weak atomic bond and tendency to fracture along its axial planes. Striking it with sufficient force should shatter it."

Snart asks the ceiling, "There's no ritual or other way to stop this? If breaking it breaks the curse, how come it's still in one piece?"

"The only explanation is that previous thieves succumbed to their abilities."

Mick digs through that sentence, latching onto the parts he understands, getting the gist of it before raising his eyebrows in question at Snart. "Everybody else died," Snart clarifies. Mick grunts and returns to his sandwich, trying not to think about what freezing to death might feel like.

"You sure about this, Gideon?"

"Quite certain, Mr. Snart. There is a much smaller inscription underneath the stone, inside the setting, that details this. Whoever created the necklace didn’t expect anyone to remove the gem, but also included a failsafe."

"Seems a little too convenient," Snart mutters. He gets up and squeezes Mick's shoulder for him to follow. Mick dusts his hands off and reaches up as he stands, taking Snart's hand back into his and heading to the bridge to put a stop to the whole stupid curse.

Out in the hallway, Snart tries another speech. "You know I can get us at least a million for that thing," he hisses in Mick's ear. "There's still time for us to get control of these powers, a way to survive that nobody thought of before. Think, Mick! Why destroy something worth so much!"

"Maybe if I was the one catching fire, I'd leave it," Mick allows. He stops them outside the entrance to the bridge, studying Snart's hand where it's held tight in his own. "But I ain't. And puttin' it back and taking it again'll take too long, and probably won't switch our powers. So we gotta break it."

Snart sighs and looks away. Mick's not gonna hear the end of this for a while, but he doesn't mind. He just wants to be able to hold and use his lighters again. To feel the flame near and against his skin; eat a real, full meal. He gives Snart's hand an awkward squeeze and adds, "Feels kinda funny, being the one with the cool head." Because he's just as much of an asshole as his partner. A short, snorting laugh gets out before Snart can stop it and Mick grins, turning and tugging Snart after him the last few steps onto the bridge.

The necklace is where Hunter left it, on the scanning surface of the console. Mick snatches it up and hurls it to the floor with all his strength. The stone shatters on impact, the setting warping and the shiny, gold links of the chain discoloring in the resulting explosion. The light is bright enough to fill the room, but only lasts a second before winking out like a spent candle. Mick exchanges another look with Snart and they slowly release their grips, fingers sliding away, touching until the last possible second. He braces for the cold and he can see Snart tense up, but nothing happens; neither of them frosts over or spontaneously combusts.

Mick is certain he's never felt such relief.

\--

Ray watches as first Leonard and then Mick leave the bridge. They don't look at each other again and keep their distance as they walk down the hallway and out of sight. The tension in the room abates, everyone present deflating in on themselves in relief. Ray's not sure why they were so wound up- he was the one who ended up cleaning up the disaster area Mick left in the kitchen. He crouches and picks up the chain, turning it over in his hands.

"Hey, Gideon?"

"Yes, Dr. Palmer?"

"Do we have to, y'know, get rid of this, now? I mean, since the gem's broken and it's not really a necklace anymore, do we have to dispose of it?"

"I don't think that will be necessary," Rip responds from the library. He's already settled back into his chair and is studying the box Leonard, Mick and Sara retrieved a couple days earlier.

"Okay, good. I'm just gonna, clean this up, then. I'll, uh, be in the lab, if anyone needs me."

A simple solution cleans the chain and Ray takes a little extra time to straighten out a few of the links that bent in the explosion (or when it hit the bridge tiles- Mick threw it pretty hard). He has Gideon manufacture a gift box and then arranges the chain nicely inside. It's easy enough to stake out Leonard and Mick's rooms, waiting for one of them to leave. When Leonard slinks down the hall like some giant cat, Ray has Gideon let him in the thief's room, where he deposits the box and a note:

 _You guys will work things out. Give this to Mick as an apology._  
-A friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's gen. Yes, it's very easy to read it as more than that. You go ahead and interpret however you see fit, reader.


End file.
